Untitled

Marguerite Goglia
These shoes just never fit right
Too tight
Too loose
The laces loop to form a noose
And I hang myself on what I'll never be

Strangled
Choking on the tongue that folds
And dangles at an angle
Still hoping that someday
I just
might
fit
As I shift my weight to find a way to feign my comfort
And somehow get away with it
Becoming numb just to get away from it

And maybe it would be easier to stroll
Without trying to put on everyone else's soles
And wearing thin the skin that's scraped from some other raped creature's back
Yet I lack that which is required
That certain knack to walk the wire
Without feeling the burn upon my feet
The heat of raging fire
So still I strive to stay alive
And play alive
While feeling dead
My head is spinning
Thinning thoughts run rampant as I cramp my feet into these borrowed skins
The day already old
I'm cold again
So tired of these shoes
I can't fit in

Published by Marguerite Goglia

"What someone is begins to be revealed when his talent abates, when he stops showing us what he can do." - Friedrich Nietzsche, German philosopher (1844-1900)   View profile

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